


Sick Leave

by ThatHistoryNerd



Series: Modern Roman AU [1]
Category: Ancient History RPF, Rome (TV 2005)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22517434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatHistoryNerd/pseuds/ThatHistoryNerd
Summary: Brutus comes to work sick. Caesar and Cassius aren't going to let him run himself into the ground.
Relationships: Marcus Junius Brutus the Younger/Gaius Cassius Longinus
Series: Modern Roman AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620157
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Sick Leave

Brutus Junius massaged his temples, stifling another yawn. He felt excessively cold, so he pulled on the same black hoodie he wore almost every day. Normally, it was for comfort; it was soft and light and he could play with the strings when he was anxious. Besides, Julius Caesar gave it to him when he was a teenager, so it had sentimental value, and he took excellent care of it. Today, though, it helped ease the chill he felt. 

He worked under Caesar at the local law firm; some of his coworkers looked at him with disdain because the lawyer clearly favored him and got him the well-paying internship. But Caesar had watched out for him since his father died when he was a little boy and Caesar was a college kid. Brutus' mom, Servilia Junius, was Caesar's first girlfriend, and Caesar had stepped in to fill the gap Brutus' father's death had left. 

The hoodie Caesar gave him was a little worn out, but still eased his shivering. Brutus made himself a quick cup of coffee in the Keurig and took it with him to work. He didn't have time to eat breakfast, but he wasn't hungry, anyway. He was hoping the coffee would help wake him up and soothe his headache, but it just irritated his stomach. Still, he needed the small energy boost, and he'd chugged it all by the time he got to work. 

Octavia, Caesar's niece and administrative assistant, raised an eyebrow and eyed him sympathetically when he walked in. "Are you feeling well, Brutus? You look tired." 

"I have a headache, but I just didn't sleep well," Brutus replied vaguely. "I'm sure I'll feel better after lunch." He got to his desk and sat down next to Cassius Longinus, his favorite coworker and best friend since high school. Cassius was an intern as well, having started not long after Brutus.

"Mornin." Cassius glanced up from his desk, taking a sip of coffee from a dark blue mug. "You look tired." 

"Yeah, Octavia told me that, too." Brutus rubbed his forehead again. "I just have a headache." 

"Need a Tylenol?" Cassius offered. 

That sounded like exactly what Brutus needed. "Do you have one?" 

"Nah, sorry." 

Brutus rolled his eyes fondly. "Thanks. How helpful." 

He managed to power through the first three hours of the day until lunch, but he wasn't hungry. He genuinely wasn't feeling well now, but he forced himself to eat the entire sandwich he'd packed. He tended to sit in the corner of the break room or with Cassius, so he was left fairly alone. Unfortunately, Mark Antony, one of the legal assistants who seemed to spend more time in the lounge than the office, was not about to leave him be today. 

"Brutus, my man." Antony clapped him on the shoulder, making Brutus choke a little on the water he'd just taken a sip of. "Sorry about that." 

"Hey, Antony." Brutus coughed into his hand, wiping his mouth and swallowing. 

Antony sat down across the table from Brutus, taking out a Wendy's bag and setting down his soft drink. "You going to the work party tonight, Brutus?" he queried. 

Suddenly, Brutus was thankful to be feeling a little under the weather. Antony was the party. He was tall, handsome, strong, funny, and loud. Everybody loved Antony. Brutus, on the other hand, was skinny, pale, awkward, shy, and far too polite. Antony was a likeable bundle of poor life choices; Brutus was an easily overlooked package of anxiety. 

Brutus lingered awkwardly at parties, praying there was an animal to pet and wondering how soon was too soon to leave. He got along well enough with the coworkers who didn't see him as Caesar's pet, but he still didn't like the loud, intense party atmosphere, and a party for Julius Caesar meant loud music, constant dancing, and getting hungover the entire weekend. Brutus preferred to get drunk in his living room, with just his cat, where he could cry without judgment. 

"I've got a bit of a headache and I'm feeling tired," Brutus shrugged, "probably not. I think I'll go home and rest." 

"Damn, what a life." Antony shook his head. "Take care of yourself, Brutus." 

Brutus nearly fell asleep on his break, but he was too cold to completely drift off. Soon he was back at his computer and it was around three when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Blinking and looking up slowly, he met Julius Caesar's concerned black eyes." Did you get enough sleep last night, Brutus?" the captain asked softly. 

Brutus rubbed his eyes and then his forehead, trying to hold back a yawn. Tears of fatigue clouded his eyes. "I've just got a bad headache. My stomach is a little upset too, I think I haven't been sleeping well enough." 

Caesar rested the backs of his slender knuckles against Brutus' cheek. "You have a fever," he murmured. "I'm sending you home." 

Brutus frowned. "It's only two more hours until I leave anyway," he protested. "I can hold out until then." 

Caesar shook his head firmly. "You're sick, Brutus. I'm sending you home and you can come back to work when you get well." He noticed Brutus' hoodie and smiled slightly. "You've really kept that thing in good shape." 

"It means a lot to me." Brutus gathered his things and looked back at Caesar before he left the office. "Thank you." 

He stopped by to let Octavia know what was going on at the front desk. "Caesar thinks I have a fever," he told her, "so he sent me home. I guess I'm on sick leave for now." 

Octavia laid a gentle hand on his forehead; it was refreshingly cool. "You're definitely warm, hun," she agreed. "Go home and rest, you've earned it." 

Brutus arrived back at his house a few minutes later, relieved at the thought of getting back to bed. First, he headed to the bathroom to grab some medication to alleviate his headache, which hadn't subsided all day. Looking in the mirror, he could see the dark circles underneath his eyes, the flush in his cheeks. Sighing, he grabbed a digital thermometer from the medicine cabinet and turned it on, sticking it under his tongue. 

Brutus sat on the edge of the bathtub, shivering a little and holding his aching forehead. He felt cold and nauseous, and it was difficult to sit in on the frigid edge of the tub, but he did so until the thermometer beeped. Pulling it out of his mouth and squinting, he groaned when he read the number and pinched the bridge of his nose. 102.2. It didn't look like this was going to be something he could simply shake off. 

Brutus laid the thermometer aside and headed into his room, collapsing into bed and huddling under the covers, desperate for warmth. He fell into an uncomfortable, feverish sleep, and when he woke up it was dark out. Checking his phone, he discovered the time was 6:03. He didn't want to sleep for nearly three hours, but he supposed he'd needed it. Unfortunately, he only felt colder and now he was achy, giving him the feeling that his temperature had risen. 

He was about to turn over and sleep again when he heard a knock on the door. Groaning, he pulled the blanket over his shoulder and stumbled over to the door, shivering. By the time he unlocked the door and opened it, no one was there, but he did find a cardboard box. Bringing it back inside and locking the door, Brutus sat on the couch with his package, opening it up to find three cans of chicken soup, a bottle of Tylenol and a bottle of Motrin, a box of saltine crackers, a box of tea bags, and two orange Gatorades. Somebody knew his favorite flavor. 

Underneath the package of crackers, Brutus found a small note in handwriting he instantly recognized, and a smile slowly spread across his face as he read. 

"Brutus,  
You're a hard-working kid, but I want you to know that it's okay to take a break. You've never been one to take care of yourself, so I figured I'd drop by a few supplies to get you started. If you get any worse, please see a doctor. Rest up and get well soon, kiddo.  
Julius" 

….. 

Brutus made himself some soup and crackers, curling up on the couch with a blanket draped over his shoulders. Pebbles, his charcoal gray tabby, crawled onto his lap, and he smiled and set the soup on the coffee table to pet him. He couldn't taste very well, meaning something was probably wrong with his sinuses. That must have been the source of his headache, he figured. 

He stayed up watching a TV show about hoarding for a while but quickly got sleepy. He made himself a cup of the tea Caesar had brought, taking it to bed when it was done sleeping. Sipping his tea and placing it on his nightstand, Brutus settled into bed, but he couldn't get comfortable because his body felt like it was four different temperatures, making strategic blanket placement difficult. 

He fell into a fitful sleep eventually, waking up several times throughout the night. When he woke up for good, bright sunlight streamed in through his bedroom blinds and his headache was worse. He stumbled out of bed, shivering as the blanket hit the floor, and it occurred to him that he ached all over. Fuck, he thought, I've got the flu. He groaned and made his way into the kitchen, where Pebbles and her orange brother, Tiger, rubbed against his legs. 

Brutus sneezed, catching it in the crook of his arm. He hated to wipe his nose on his hoodie sleeve, but he had no other choice and did so. He poured a cup of dry food into the cats' bowl and refilled their water before sitting down at his kitchen table. All he had the appetite for was some crackers, which he could taste even less today.  
Two and a half crackers in, Brutus felt the slippery sensation in his chest of his stomach rising up to his throat. Scrambling up and almost tripping on his way, he made it to the bathroom just in time to kneel on the cold floor and hurl into the toilet. 

After several minutes of agony, Brutus finished vomiting and flushed the toilet, coughing and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Real sanitary, Brutus, he thought sarcastically, but he had no other options. He wanted to get up, but the bathroom floor was refreshingly cool against his feverish skin, so he thought he would lay there for a few minutes. 

At some points, either a few seconds or a few centuries later, he wasn't sure, Brutus heard knocking on the door. He got up slowly, his body trembling, and coughed into his hand. Making his way to the door, he looked through the peephole and saw Cassius standing in the hallway. He frowned; what time was it? If must have been roughly noon because today was Thursday, so Cassius wouldn't be off work. 

Brutus let Cassius in, and his best friend gaped at the sight of him. "You look awful," he chided, "why did you ever come in to work yesterday?" 

Brutus sank down on the couch, and Cassius sat beside him. He wanted to collapse into Cassius' arms and fall asleep, but he managed to keep his eyes open. "Caesar's been really busy and stressed, I couldn't let him down," he muttered. 

"Caesar sent you home," Cassius pointed out, laying a hand on his forehead. His hand felt cold, or maybe Brutus was just hot. Sure enough, Cassius winced. "Fuck, Brutus, you're burning up." 

"I was 102.2 yesterday," Brutus shrugged. "It's fine, I've got the flu, I think. Rest and fluids, right?" 

"No, Brutus." Cassius shook his head, wide eyed. "Doctor. You need to go to the doctor." He patted his arm, standing up. "Where's your thermometer?" 

"Bathroom counter," Brutus replied, rubbing his forehead. "Are you here on your lunch break?" The idea made him feel guilty; he knew Cassius got stir crazy without his lunch break, and here he was spending it forcing his friend into basic self care. 

Cassius headed to the bathroom, calling "Yeah but it's fine" over his shoulder. He returned a moment later with the thermometer, poking the tip at his friend's cheek. Brutus shot him a look but opened his mouth, letting Cassius place the device under his tongue. 

Cassius shook his head at the open package of crackers on the table, getting up and sealing it. He poured a can of soup into a fresh bowl, sticking it in the microwave for one minute. He returned in time for the thermometer to beep and pulled it out of Brutus' mouth, frowning at the number. "103.4, Brutus, holy shit. That's it, you're eating the soup and then we're going to the doctor." 

"You're on your lunch break, Cass," Brutus argued, but Cassius took the soup out of the microwave and handed it to him with a spoon. 

"Yeah, but you're not going to take care of yourself, are you?" Cassius set the bowl down on the coffee table and only sat down when Brutus started eating. "At some point, you've got to stop worrying that you're bothering other people and at least set limits for the sake of your health. When I get sick, I don't go to work, and everyone is happy." 

"You never get sick," Brutus laughed, in between swallows of broth. When he'd drained half the bowl, Cassius was satisfied and placed the rest in the fridge. 

"Because I take care of myself like a grown ass adult." Cassius grabbed Brutus by the hand and lifted him up, leading him outside where his truck was parked. They drove to the nearest Urgent Care and Cassius paid while Brutus filled out his information. 

Cassius set down next to him when he was done paying at the counter, pulling his phone out from his pocket and checking the time. "Shit," he swore, "hang in there, dude." He pressed CALL on Caesar's contact screen, hearing the lawyer pick up a moment later. 

"Hey, yeah, it's me. I'm with Brutus at the doc. What? Oh, 103.4. Yeah, I know. Yep, that's what I told him. Yeah." Chuckle. "Okay. Well, thank you so much. Don't worry, I'll make sure he gets what he needs. Don't stress yourself out. Okay, bye." He hung up and shoved his phone back into his pocket. Turning to Brutus, he smiled. "Good news. Caesar gave me off until three because he needs me for paperwork then. So, I can bring you back from the appointment." 

Roughly an hour later, they were back in Cassius' truck, on the way back from the pharmacy after dropping off Brutus' prescriptions. "Influenza A, and you didn't even want to listen to me." Cassius rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable."

Brutus rested his head against the truck window, the cool glass soothing his headache and his fever. "Thanks for making me go, Cassius. You're a good friend." He wanted to say something else, but he decided against it. Cassius had enough on his plate already. Besides, he wasn't brave enough yet. 

"Well, you owe me lunch," Cassius teased, pulling up and parking at Brutus' building. "I'll be back in the evening to bring your prescriptions." 

"You're going to get sick from me," Brutus warned, stopping to sneeze as he got out of the truck. He shut the door with the hand he didn't sneeze into, figuring he at least owed Cassius that after all he'd done for him. 

"I never get sick, you said so yourself." Cassius helped Brutus into the elevator and down the hall to his apartment, leading him to bed. Brutus kicked off his shoes and Cassius walked into the kitchen, returning with a bottle of Gatorade and three Motrin tablets from the package Caesar gave him. "Take these, they should get started on that fever until your medicine comes in." 

Brutus took the pills and gulped down half the bottle before setting it aside. His eyes were heavy lidded, and when he blinked, a single tear of fatigue rolled down his flushed cheek. "Thanks, Cass," he murmured, resting his head against the pillows. He was still achy and cold and hot at the same time, but for once his tiredness outweighed the symptoms. 

"Go to sleep, Brutus," Cassius said gently, pulling the street over Brutus' slender shoulders. "If I get sick, you can take care of me." And sure enough, a few days later, that was exactly what ended up happening.

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this in the middle of the night because I love Brutus and wanted to give him more love. I picture him here as Brutus from Rome, but I've sort of created an AU because I feel like in the modern age they'd all be politicians/lawyers.


End file.
